Never mind the blood; dig deeper.

I thought I was done. But I’m not. My mind is filled to the brim tonight, and I’ve got to get it all out, even though I’m pretty sure only one person that even knows me reads this.

I feel inadequate. I feel as though I do not meet up to any sort of expectations, and that is why I am miserable. That is why I failed at my relationship. That is why my friendships give out. That is why I am alone.

My chest is empty. There is a gaping wound there, hollow and pulsing. I believe it is a combination of events and emotions that has caused its appearance, but I can’t figure out how to fill it. I’m not sure what to do in order to make it better. I can cover it up all I want, but that’s purely superficial and gets me nowhere. Because underneath, it is still there, taunting me, hurting me, killing me. Emptiness seethes out from every pore. I am heavy with the stuff. I have developed some sort of incapability with self-expression lately; I do not know how to articulate or even discern my emotions and therefore dwell in some ever-present pool of discomfort and depression. A contemplative state of mind in which I cannot grasp what it is that I am thinking about, and even more frustrating, why I am thinking about it.

Love is like a sponge. It sucks you up, but when you get squeezed out, you’re full of shit and DIRTY. I feel exhausted. I’m trying to keep myself out of the house, and I’m working on getting a job. I should be elated at getting a 4.0 again this semester, but I don’t really care. I’ve lost interest in things that should be important to me, and all I really want to do is lay around or simply not talk. All people do is let you down. And sometimes loving someone sucks so much that it becomes indescribable, and is nothing more than a gaping crevice in your being that exudes pain. They say misery loves company, but they’re wrong.

I am truly baffled by whatever my mind is doing to me concerning Spooner. I am very certain that I do not have romantic feelings for him. I am only vaguely physically attracted to him. But there is something about him that makes me crazy curious. And if I’m going to be honest with the world (and more importantly, myself), I want to kiss him. I want to go back in time, and be single Saturday night when he tried to kiss me. I cannot explain it and I don’t understand it, but my mind continues to wander to the thought of it. It’s not that I want to kiss him because I’m curious as to what it would be like, not because I want to rebound, but rather because…I want to kiss him. Period. Some part of me wants to plant my hands on either side of his face and taste his mouth. And because I cannot for the life of me figure out why this is, as well as all of the jealous and possessive feelings that seem to go along with it, I’m losing my mind. And I truly believe that quarterlife and I are developing a silent hatred toward each other when it comes to him, which is, in and of itself, complete madness. Nothing seems to make sense anymore, which is just so goddamned convenient considering how badly I need them to.

There is something very, very wrong with me.